


Old Fashioned and Independent

by thepeskyunicorn



Series: Modern Gravebone au [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Past Child Abuse, bookshop au, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: Percival Graves is an old fashioned man and Credence Barebone is an independent man





	

Percival Graves is an old fashioned man. He wears his suspenders with his suit, slicks his hair back in a style that men half his age calls 'hipster', and wines and dines his boy to bed. Some people may critique his methods as outdated, but seeing Credence stretched over the buttery soft leather seats of his car, eyes half lidded and plush lips twisted in a satisfied smile, Graves dare anyone to challenge his way.

Credence Barebone is an independent man. He has a job at a small, modern bookstore that sells used textbooks and stocks rare collectibles. In the years since his emploment, Credence has risen the ranks to be the Assistant Manager, a feat he credits to his single minded loyalty and his love for books. They were, after all, the very things that kept him afloat when he was outgrowing his horrible bowl cut and the bleeding wounds on his back from his mother's abuse were still healing. Tina, the owner of the bookshop, had taken him in without questions about his past. Credence is glad she does not ask. He, in turn, does not lie.

Credence keeps to himself. He works hard during the day; cataloguing, arranging, networking. He is what truly keeps the bookshop up and running. Newt drops in sometimes, with a kiss for Tina and a collection of first editions he has brought back with him from his travels. Credence does not speak to Newt much, but he alway gives him a tour and an update about how his collection has been keeping. It warms Credence to know that he had the friendship of another man who is just as obsessed with books as he is.

In the evening, after he closes up, Credence goes home to his lonely flat, has a lonely dinner, and goes to bed alone. He does not mind. In fact, it is what he prefers.

Percival Graves entered the little modern bookshop one blousy day in October, just when the leaves were about to turn their colour. He looks out of place there, with his old fashioned coat and hat and suit, but also strangely fitting, as if he were another rare one amongst the yellowing first editions. Credence finds himself quite taken by the juxtaposition this man sets, but he sneaks more than a single look not just because of the way the man dresses.The handsome face and elegant features intrigues him, the soft salt and pepper of the man's hair completing the picture of a refined, stern gentleman.

But Credence does not fraternise with the customer unless absolutely necessary, so he keeps out of the way while the man browses the well stocked shelves, busying himself with the monthly expenses.

Graves notices the delicately strong boy the way he notices everything. He notices the lovely sweeping cheekbones and the lilthing cats eyes. He notices the subtle beauty and the harsh way the boy dresses. He notices how the boy looks without looking at him, skilfully peeking from the corner of his eye and through his lashes, and Graves smiles. He likes the boy.

He and the boy does not interact the first time they meet. He allows the boy to ring up his purchase - a boring biography that would undoubtedly look good on his coffee table - and takes in his nametag which reads 'Credence'. He gives Credence a warm smile and slips the change from his purchase into the colourful tip jar next to the counter, making his way out of the bookstore as casually as he could. Credence does not smile back, but Graves could see a light illuminating in his eyes and the corner of his lips tilt up. He leaves feeling lighter than he has been in a very long while.

Credence believes that they created a sort-of routine after that day. The man comes in once a week or so, always during the down time, when Tina would be in her office and the customers were little to non-existent. He would putter around the store, slowly slipping the books into their correct shelves, memorising the silk of their covers and the quiet way they slide into place, all the while looking at the man in a way he hopes does not mean he is looking. The man is always self-assured, always knowing which section and which shelf to go to, but sometimes he does not leave with a purchase. Often, he leaves empty handed, with a secret grin on his face. Always, he gives Credence a smile that would melt his bones and leave him feeling breathless and inexplicably happy.

The man gives him his name one day, while he is ringing up his purchase for a collection of Wordsworth's poetry. "Percival Graves," he says, voice as assured as his stature. "It's a pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Credence."

"Mr Graves," Credence says politely, but he lets his finger linger longer than is neccessary when he passes over the change, and his heart beats faster than he thought possible at the subtle flirtation.

Graves lips quirked up, hand flipping over suddenly to capture Credence's palm in his. Bringing up his other calloused hand to fully cover Credence's, he touches his lips to the knuckles. Then, he is gone, leaving only the insistent pressure that Credence could not be quite sure actually exists.

They talk more after that. Simple things, mundane things. Graves reveal that he is a Detective Inspector, a man of high rank, a busy man, but a lonely one too. Credence talks a little about his life before and his life now, skimming over the nightmares, but Graves have seen enough to know what he was talking about. They sit in the overstuffed armchairs at the reading corner, conversing in soft voices or just sitting in contented silence until Graves had to leave and Credence has to lock up. It was a friendship that both have yet to experience in a long time, and Credence allows it to colour the long and lonely hours at home just as Graves allows it to fill his mind at night, when he is aching for company in his too big house.

"Have dinner with me," Graves say one evening, hands in the pocket of his coat at Credence sets up the security for the night. It is October again, a full year, a full cycle, and Graves thought it proper to push their friendship one step further.

Credence looks up, startled. "Yes," he says immediately, looking away, although he does not blush. Credence is stronger than he appears, Graves realise. No wilting daisy with this one. Credence winkles his head with thought. "But I have nothing to wear."

Graves takes it as an excuse to give Credence a once over. Although old and a little faded, the primly pressed shirt and slacks fitted close to Credence's body, a delicious sight.

"What you have on is more than enough," Graves reply. "If all else fails, just pretend that casual chic is the new fashion." Credence grins at his little joke and slides into Graves car.

They spend a whirlwind dinner talking and laughing, anticipation building in their bellies with each fleeting touch, each look held a fraction too long. Credence's laugh would suffice to keep him alive, Graves believes, and he uses his considerable self control to keep from leaning over and kissing the boy senseless.

Although Credence has had no experience in the ritual of seduction he has no doubt he is experiencing, he has read novels, illicit stories that he has come to accept as a guilty pleasure, titles that make him blush to narrate out loud when Tina shoves a copy in his hands with a giggle, acts that sustain him through frustrated nights when his mind occupied itself with Mr Graves' image and he could not sleep. Credence is unsure of the specifics which comes next, but it does not stop the excitement from building as he takes in the undivided attention of Mr Gaves, lets the small praises and company build in his chest.

He feels close to bursting by the time dessert arrives, not just with food but also on the attention Mr Graves lavishes on him. He is giddy with the single glass of wine he drank and the humble vibration of laughter that they both share, giggling about one nonsensical thing after another, Credence counting the laughter lines at the corner of Mr Graves' eyes and vowing to kiss every single one of them.

The alcohol emboldened him, enough that he finally gathered up his courage to lean in for a clumsy, mortifying kiss on Mr Graves' cheek as he tried to start the car. For a second, he was sure that he had messed it all up, that Mr Graves would kick him out and never talk to him again, but the second pass and he is swept up in a crushing kiss, desperate and intense.

Mr Graves kisses like he looks, all self assurance and confidence, tongue sweeping in to capture Credence's without mercy. Credence gives as good as he gets, inexpert fumbling transitioning to a slow exploration as Mr Graves slots their mouth together again, whispering against his lips to "Slow down, darling, we ain't going anywhere soon". He takes his time, concentrating on the angle, the pressure, the rising tide of pleasure that compels his to surge forward, take control of the kiss. Mr Graves lets him, encourage him with a happy, surprised noise, thumb untucking a corner of his shirt to stroke at the bare skin.

Credence gasps, the small contact enough to light his skin on fire, and crawls across the center partition, eager for more contact. He climbs onto Mr Graves lap, straddling his thighs with the wanton spreading of his legs, shuffling closer until his bulge presses against Mr Graves'.

Mr Graves undulates his hips, smooth practiced movements so at odds with the quickening of his breath. "You'll be the death of me, my boy," he whispers roughly in Credence's ear, and Credence smiles through the haze of pleasure, hips bucking for more contact. He lowers his head once more, threading fingers through Mr Graves' hair, slipping down to curl tentatively at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly as he goes in for another kiss.

Graves groan, pushing upwards into the kiss, Credence's lips growing surer against his own, nails scratching a little harder as he starts to rut against Graves. Christ, if they keep this up, he'll surely come in his pants like he's a teenager again and the night's fun will be over. Sighing internally, Graves pull away with great reluctance, cherishing the way Credence follows with furrowed brows, and lifts Credence off his lap in a surprising show of strength, depositing him on the other side of the small space.

Credence flailed a little, bewildered at the loss of contact. Mr Graves looks winded, cheeks flushed and hair in a disarray. Credence feels no small satisfaction that he was able to undo him that way.

"Why did we stop?" He asks, trying hard not to pout. Mr Graves gives a breathless laugh, twisting the key to start the car.

"Because, sweetheart," and oh, Credence's heart jumped at the lovely nickname. "I'd rather do this in a more comfortable space, and much as I'd love to embed the memory of you in this car, I'd like our first time to be special."

"Special." Credence tastes the word with his tongue. Mr Graves slants him a look and a crooked smile.

"Special," Mr Graves repeats. "Just like you, darling."

Credence ducks his head to hide his smile, discreetly tucking in the corner of his shirt and basking in Mr Graves' praise. Suddenly, waiting doesn't seem so bad after all.

***

Graves' house is not a monstrosity, but it is easy to see how it could be for a man who lives here alone. He watch as Credence steps into the foyer with delicacy and awe, eyes immediately fixating on the large bookshelf he had pushed to the corner of the living room.

He brush pasts the boy, rolling off both their coats to hang it up at the rack. "Bathroom is upstairs, first door to the left," He says, leaning close enough to see Credence shiver and his eyes close in anticipation. "Clean yourself thoroughly, darling. We have a long night ahead." Credence's tiny gasp did not escape him, and Graves saunters the rest of the way to his room in pleased satisfaction.

He lays out clean sheets on the bed and prepares the lube and condoms while he waits, keeping his ears perked for any indication that Credence might need help. The instructions on the box he left out specially for him should be clear enough, but there might always be the chance of euphimisms and confusions.

He was unclipping his suspenders when the door to his room creaked softly, and he whirls around to a wonderful sight. Credence, laid bare, pale and perfect, his cock flushed and already at half mast.

"Oh my beautiful boy," he breaths, striding over to capture Credence's lips in a possesive kiss. The awkwardness in Credence bleeds away as Graves grasps at his waist, his hips, covering as much as he could with his hands. The delicious rasp of expensive cotton against his skin his skin is arousing, and he tries to arch into the friction even as Mr Graves push him back, making them both stumble and fall onto the bed.

"Are you alright?" Graves asks concernly even as his fingers kneaded lewdly at Credence's ass. "Were the instructions clear enough? Did you have any touble?"

Credence grins, wide and lopsided, the glint of hunger clear in his eyes. "Why don't you check for yourself and see, Mr Graves?"

Graves growls, head over heels for the sweet, mischeivious boy that lies beneath him. Tipping Credence's chin up, he feasts on his neck, sucking dark bruises into the skin until he convinces himself that Credence is truly his. Only then does he slide down, laving a nipple in his mouth, smiling around the pebbling bud as Credence keens and his chest heaves.

Credence fingers are scrabbling to unknot Mr Graves tie now, clumsy and uncoordinated as he flings the scrap of material aside and starts on the buttons. Mr Graves chuckles, deep and dark, the vibrations raising goosebumps across his skin. He slips out of Credence's grasp, petting his flank absently as Credence whines at the loss of contact, grasping Credence's thigh in his hands and hoisting it to his shoulders. With a debauched smirk, Mr Graves leans down to lick from his pucker all the way to the tip of his cock.

Credence was sure his resultant shout would have woken up the entire neighbourhood. In any case, Mr Graves only laugh, his head dissapearing between his legs to lave at his hole, kittenish licks after broad strokes, dipping in to taste, worshipping the heart of him.

Graves pushed the thighs higher up his shoulder, grasping the boy's cheeks in each hand to squeeze and pull aside, revealing more of Credence to his greedy mouth. It was a messy affair, saliva smearing his chin and his tongue straining deeper, swirling patterns the rim and the insides, coating his mouth with the deep, dark taste of Credence even as the boy muffles a scream, pushing back on to his tongue. Graves would have died a happy man right then and there.

Fumbling around the sheets, Graves cursed under his breath as he tries to reach for the lubricant he was sure he tossed there. He shifts, struggling out of his dress shirt and stretching his arm out blindly, reluctant to forgo the taste of his boy, even for a second.

Credence's fingers meets his halfway, curled around the bottle of lube, cap already snapped open. Looking up though his lashes, he smiles at Credence's shy look, holding out his hand and the boy squeezes slick on to his fingers, nodding at his questioning look to ask for more lube. It is Credence's first time, after all.

He starts with a thumb, a half twist at the puckered opening, slicking up the entrance for more. Credence captures his mouth in a kiss as he sinks the first digit in, teeth pulling at his lips as he hooks the thumb around the rim, softly pulling at entrance, allowing Credence to bite down as the digit pops loose. It was a slow, sensual preparation, noisy with sighs and swallowed moans, each captured by Graves with hungry reverence as he kisses each one up.

One finger becomes two, and Graves knows enough not to scissor, letting Credence get use to the stretch in his own time, murmuring encouragements and smoothing the clenched brows with lips and words. "You're doing so well, my dear," he says, adding the third digit in. Credence shifts and mutters his discomfort. "In your own time, darling." The fingers crooked, searching for the sweet spot, and Graves leans down to capture the little scream of surprise as he hits the bundle of nerves. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

It's a promise, and he withdraws shortly to roll Credence onto his front, giving in to the urge to slap the milky globes of flesh, delighting in watching his boy's ass redden and blush, sinking in for an intimate kiss and a lick that sends shiver down Credence's spine before sinking in his fingers into the hole.

He has a better angle from here, a veritable feast for the eyes as he watch his fingers sink in, Credence's back bowing and pushing as he swallows up the thick digits, the velvet walls clutching and sucking as Graves pumps them in a measured pace.

"Such a greedy slut for it, aren't you," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from the lovely scene to nuzzle the side of Credence's temple. Credence hides his face in the pillow, overwhelmed by the sensations and the talk. "Hmm? My dirty little slut, being stretched so beautifully on my fingers, lovely little thing." Graves' voice dropped until it was a deadly purr. "What I wouldn't give to see you split open on something bigger."

Credence whines, throwing his head back as the rough pads of the fingers brushed against the bundle of nerves with each pass. Graves takes the opportunity to suck another mark into his neck.

"Then do it, sir," Credence challenges, eyes slitting at the avalanche of pleasure. "Do your worst."

"You wicked boy." Graves ease his fingers out, wiping them on the sheets as he grabs a condom off the bedside table, gifting Credence with a bruising kiss as he rolls it on with practiced ease. Twisting roughly, he rolls atop Credence, pressing down on his shoulderblades and grinning at he watches the hips rise as Credence's chest lies flushed against the mattress. "Is this what you want?" Graves asks as he runs the sheathed head across the slick and loose entrance. His mouth waters and his cock drools at the prospect of sinking into his boy.

Credence shifts, turning back to look at Graves with bold, sure eyes. "Yes," he says, clearly, no hesitation in his voice. Then, it broke, the desperation brooking forth. "Yes, I- I- Please, Mr Graves!"

There was little difficulty in pushing into the warm, tight heat, feeling the muscles milk him and give way, letting him carve his space into Credence. Ownership is the best word for it, and by the way Credence his gasping his acceptance, it would seem that he was not the only one being owned.

He push in to the hilt, hips tight against hips, closer to Credence in flesh and soul. He pulls out, relishing in the drag, drawing back until only the tip remains, gently massaged by the pulsing rim.

Grabbing Credence's shoulder, he uses it as a leverage to slam back in without warning.

Credence gasps, choking on air, filling fuller than he has ever been. Graves set a punishing rhythm, twisting his hips with each inward stroke to bush past Credence's prostate, causing blinding sparks to light up behind his eyes as he shouts in pleasure.

"My sweet little boy loves this, doesn't he," Graves pants, leaning down to add a bit of teeth to the nibbling of Credence's shoulder. The blades stick out sharply, and it was clear that there were some old wounds which had not healed properly, and Graves fucks into Credence harder, trying to erase the echo of painful hits. "I'll fuck you so hard all you'll be screaming is my name, darling." He growls, fingers leaving their bruises as he pumps impossibly faster.

"Yes," Credence cries, throat working as he swallows back wilder cries. "Yes, yes, yes! I'm yours, sir, only yours, your little slut -" He snarls, a wild sound, grasping the back of Graves head and pulling him into a kiss. Graves pours himself into it, releasing his hold on Credence's hips to wrap around his length, stroking sloppily, frantically, as he brings them both towards the edge.

"Come for me," he says against Credence's lips. "Come for me, my darling, my love." Credence makes a broken noise, pushing back and forth in an effort to be filled and to be touched. Baring his teeth, Graves dug them into the meat of Credence's shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to push Credence over the edge, the pain providing an exquisite counterpoint to the overwhelming surge of sensation as he comes.

Credence floats on a cloud of bliss, mildly aware of Mr Graves grunting as he pumps his hips a few more times, stiffens, and drapes himself across his back with a sigh. Turning to his side, Credence nudge at Mr Graves with his nose, slotting their mouths together in a sweet kiss as they came down from their high.

It took a while before Graves could muster the energy to haul himself off the bed to dispose of the condom, Credence's warmth and the smell of their lovemaking still thick in the air. He had the presence of mind to return with a wet rag, carefully sponging away the mess on Credence's stomach , hauling the both of them to the corner of the bed that didn't sport an impressive wet spot. When they were as clean as he could manage, Graves settles down, gathering Credence as close to him as he could, letting his fingers do a slow, lazy exploration over the boy's body.

There is the urge to plug Credence's hole up, keep it loose and ready for their next fucking, and Graves is very much tempted to suggest it out loud as his fingers brush past the puffy and sensitive rim. Next time, he promises himself, quenching the beast in him that craved for more. He thrills a little at the possibility of a repeat performance. Next time.

Beside him, Credence give a whistling snore, already drifting off into sleep. Graves loops his arms tighter around his precious boy and count the individual ribs as he lulls himself to sleep.

***

Percival Graves is an old fashioned man, and it shows with his referred method of fucking. He likes to take it slow and vanilla, maybe sometimes quick and rough if the mood hits him. But when probed, he admits that he's not adversed to tying his lovely boy up with his suspenders and playing with his sweet hole until Credence cries for mercy.

Graves treats Credence well; there's no doubt about that. Even Tina and Newt approves, if the nudges and winks whenever Graves drops by is any indication. They are a good fit - two lonely people, one from the old world and the other from the new. Against what he feared, Credence feels himself becoming more outgoing, his cheeks flushing with colour and his mouth alive with his thoughts that Graves encourages and coaxes from his mind. Graves is an old fashioned man, and he believes in chilvary as much as he believes in letting Credence fluorish and shine.

Credence Barebone is an independent man, and he is far from being a kept man as one could think of. But he is also not an idiot. So when on the fifth anniversary of their relationship Mr Graves asks Credence to move in with him, Credence says "Yes" without hesitation or doubt. He still works at the bookshop, only now he is the owner of it after Tina and Newt decides to pass it on to him as they embark on their much planned journey abroad. He ensures that business is steady and blooming and in the evenings, when Mr Graves goes to pick him up, he spends the night and the rest of his life cultivating his other obsession of loving Percival Graves. Yes, Credence Barebone is an independent man, but more than that, he is a _happy_  man.

And that is more than he's ever wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been barely a day after watching the movie and here I am, sinning. Any and all mistakes are mine!  
> I would love to explore this dynamics more so there might be ficlets dedicated to their relationship in this universe:)
> 
> As always, kudos and feedback are greatly welcomed!


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